Not To Be
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Some things just weren't meant to be. Or were they? First in a three story oneshot arc.


**Author's Note: This is the first in a three part story arc. I hope you enjoy it. Also, for those interested, a new challenge will be up on the forum (Chit Chat on Author's Corner) in the next few days.**

**Not To Be**

He stared down into the empty glass, wondering if the last amber drop would be just enough to tip him over the edge into blissful forgetfulness.

Unfortunately, he doubted it. Morosely, he shook his head, gesturing to the bartender for a refill. Nothing he'd tried had proven successful yet, but there was no sense in passing up good scotch.

He'd tried throwing himself into work, but after four false starts on his newest chapter, he'd given up in disgust. He'd tried going out with friends, but after being in her overwhelming presence, he found most conversations mundane and uninteresting. Few challenged his opinions, and when he'd quickly found without someone willing to spar with him, he had realized it simply wasn't worth his effort.

That was how he'd found himself alone in a bar, nursing his third neat scotch.

Damn it, why the hell hadn't he just left her alone? He'd perfected the art of ignoring the things that tempted him, hadn't he? Three marriages should have taught him that damned much.

And he'd been doing so well, too. He'd learned not to become aroused when her perfume wafted over him. He'd resisted the urge to allow his gaze to linger too long on her supple body. Hell, he'd even been suckered into offering to give her away at her wedding when that bastard disguised as a man had proposed to her. To add insult to injury, it had also been him elected to braving her wrath the night that same said man had walked out on her...and her infant.

After all of that, surely he should have been resistant to her charms.

But one stolen night had robbed him of sanity….and that well-cultivated immunity.

Trite as it sounded, one night really could change everything. Gone was the easy dynamic he'd shared with Jennifer Jareau. In its place, tension and regret had taken residence.

He'd warned her not to push him...not to dig into a psyche that was better left to its own devices. but her persistence had worn him down.

One too many drinks in the hotel bar during a case had cost him one of the healthiest relationships of his life. The few hours of mindless abandon they'd found in each other's arms in that no-name town provided little comfort now. For weeks afterward, she'd barely been able to meet his eyes...their verbal exchanges had been little more than stilted, stuttered mutterings.

It had been a living, breathing version of the ninth rung of hell.

Her sudden transfer to State had almost been a relief.

Almost.

He'd mistakenly assumed that time and distance would create a healing balm for both of them...that when they'd had time to ponder and reflect on the events that had transpired between them, things would be better.

It was what he wanted to believe.

He sucked at self-delusion, too.

And apparently, so did she.

Tonight had only proven his theory. And he could happily maim Aaron Hotchner for involuntarily throwing him back into Jennifer Jareau's all-encompassing sphere. Of course, he couldn't be too terribly angry at his best friend. The man had no idea of what had unfolded between him and their former media liaison. The simple fact that he was still breathing attested to that fact. If Hotch had known what had developed between two of his most valued employees and friends...what had contributed to the dissolution of his team...he was fairly certain the coolly controlled man would have shot him in the head and not even blinked at the effort.

Damn it to hell and back, he'd had known better than to attend Penelope Garcia's birthday celebration. He couldn't even lie to himself and hold onto any sense of plausible deniability, not even able to claim that he hadn't known she'd be there. The women were best friends, for Christ's sake.

But his desire to see the stunning beauty that he was in no way worthy enough for had overwhelmed his good sense. And, like so many other things in his life, that was a big mistake.

His plan had been to observe, but avoid his target...to fly below the ever present radar. To look his fill and assuage this clawing need to see her, but sidestep direct interactions that would have broken down every fortress between them.

Unfortunately, he needed to brush up on Evasive Maneuvers 101.

Within fifteen minutes of arriving at Garcia's soiree, he'd come face to face with her. Why hadn't he ever noticed that the ladies' room was in the direct path of where the wallflowers gathered before? How had he missed that pertinent piece of knowledge over the years?

Cursing himself nine kinds of fool as he'd watched her angular face pale, he'd realized that no amount of time could heal the rift in their relationship. If there was a single thing he knew about Jennifer, it was that as much as she despised weakness in other people, she loathed it within herself more. And while their passionate evening of months ago had began with her trying to know his secrets, it had, with the help of a bottle of wine, ended with her revealing a few of her own.

It was obvious that she hated him for that as much as for allowing them to be carried away in the heat of the moment.

A brave man would have stayed and faced her...would have insisted that they finally have the discussion they should have had when it happened. God knew, there were things that he'd wanted to say...that he wished he'd said then.

He'd been saved, however when someone had stepped between them, capturing her attention for the brief seconds it had taken him to make his hasty escape. He'd heard her calling his name as he had reached the door of the restaurant. He'd even hesitated a moment, but the coward within reminded him that some things were not meant to be...that she deserved so much more than he could offer her.

So, he'd left. And found his way here, he thought grimly, allowing his eyes to drift over the dim downtown pub that had become his home away from home after long, hard cases that left him yearning to fill the emptiness in his soul.

Accepting the new highball that the bartender slid in front of him, he slowly lifted the heavy etched glass to his lips.

He could accept the idea that he was a man best suited to a solitary existence. And once he explained the lesson to what was left of his heart, perhaps then, he could begin to heal.

Finis


End file.
